Master Loves You
by The Manatee
Summary: Life on the streets is hard, no exceptions. But what happens when luck takes a turn? Is it luck, or a curse? Is the pain worth the pleasure? Is the sacrifice worth the survival? Rated M for a reason. Possible lemon in later chapters. SasuNaru. AU.
1. Feels Like Falling

Life on the streets is hard for everyone; no exceptions. There is no easy way out, no way to cheat the system. All you can do is put your nose to the grind and pray you don't look up in time to see what's ahead of you. That's the key to living out here: don't look up. Never look up.

I had bounced between odd jobs for most of my life out here, but when push came to shove, I ended up at the bottom of the heap. Out here a prostitute is about as low as you can go, and I had been stuck there for years. The only thing I had got going for me were my looks, which seemed to be slipping every day. It's not something I could help, really. I wasn't getting enough to eat, or enough sleep. No place to live meant: no regular showers, no cleanliness of any manner. I'd done all of the tricks the old gals had taught me (paint your nails so they can't see the dirt underneath, keep your hair short if possible so it doesn't look as lanky and greasy, slap your cheeks to give yourself some color), but I could only do so much.

My genetics didn't help me out with the luck of the draw. Sure, I was pretty to look at from a distance, maybe even for a one-night fuck, but I was no Suzy Starshine. My blue eyes are lack-luster from the lack of sleep, my hair is completely unruly and always out of control. My once tan skin is starting to become sallow from too much night work, and sleeping during the day. Scars left over from a sadistic bastard don't help at all.

But for some reason, the ladies enjoyed it. And as long as the ladies kept paying, I could keep eating enough to stay alive. And as long as I could stay alive, well… that's about it.

That's where my story begins. An emotionally half-dead hooker, finishing his latest round in the alley, and stepping back out onto the streets a whole twenty dollars richer. My customer was nothing to me but a blur of hideous pink and horrendous perfume.

I had thought of going back out onto the streets, maybe catch another John or two, but I was dead tired. I needed some sort of shut-eye or caffeine before I leapt back onto that particular horse. Pun intended.

I'd gotten maybe thirty steps from the alley when fate decided to drive a car right up to the curve. I kept walking, but as the car followed me, I realized that any sort of luck on the streets just can't be turned down.

I turned to face the car, brushing my bangs back away from my face, and sauntering slowly to the curb. The car was nice. Not in the way you would say your grandmother's car was nice, but legitimately a sweet piece of metal. A cool black Bently; chrome option included. A darkly tinted window slid languidly into the door, and I took my cue.

"Hey, stranger. Looking for company?" I said, laying my hand on the top of the door, leaning my body in, trying to look as appealing as an underweight street rat can.

I felt rather than saw his stare. I knew it was a guy from the scent of cologne drifting out of the open window. Slow, musky, almost sweet.

A quiet sigh slipped out of the man inside, just loud enough for me to catch. I heard some mumbling after that, though whether he said "I can't believe I'm doing this," or "I should get my car washed," was beyond me.

The driver put the car in park, the tiniest lurch putting the car into a full stop. Said driver then exited the car and headed toward my side of the car. I pulled away from the car, putting my hands up and open beside the sides of my head, trying to show I was no harm at all.

Rather than giving me the beating I was expecting, the driver opened the door and gestured me to sit, with a slight bow of his enormous figure. The guy had at least a hundred and fifty pounds of sheer muscle on me, and I couldn't resist the twinge of fear that ran through me as I slipped past him and into the car.

The door closed with a quiet thud.

The interior of the car was entirely black leather. Swanky, clean, and nearly new.

"You smell like cigarettes," the man next to me spoke, bringing my attention to him straight away.

He sat with his legs crossed, head propped up in his hand, elbow on the opposite door. His entire body oozed a cool arrogance, with a slight sting of disdain. His obviously perfectly tailored suit left little to the imagination, and the creases down the legs showed it was freshly pressed. His scent wafted towards me, a strange mix of an artificial cologne and the smell of his own skin. The same smell from outside of the car, but so much stronger now. This car was definitely not a rental. His scent had pervaded it too far. His wealth was legitimate.

"Sorry about that," I whispered, trying to at least appear contrite. Inside, I was screaming victory. Anything that made this rich bastard uncomfortable was a treat to my ego.

His hand slipped forward, and he actually covered his nose, rolling the window down.

"Kiba, be sure the car is washed tomorrow. I want this horrific scent gone by morning."

"My pleasure, sir," the driver said, with a slight chuckle.

I couldn't stop the pout from making itself visible. Honestly, this guy was a total ass.

"If I'd known I'd get such a high end customer, I'd have taken a dip in my Chanel No. 5, and slipped into some silk," I said, sarcasm spilling from my lips.

"Disgusting," he whispered back, "That would entirely defeat the purpose."

I sighed, slumping back against the seat.

"Look, payment is up front, a hundred an hour. I'm sure you can handle that."

"A hundred an hour? Someone has low self-esteem."

It was all I could do to keep myself from launching at the bastard.

Then, for the first time that night, he looked at me, his hand slipping away to reveal a cool smirk that never reached his endlessly black eyes. His pale skin was in perfect contrast to the dark suit and his equally dark hair. The style, though, was ridiculous.

"Not everyone can have the confidence to walk around with hair like a duck's ass," I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

A burst of barking laughter echoed from the front seat. The driver shaking with obvious glee.

"Kiba!" my rich host hollered, "keep the car on the damned road!"

The laughing stopped immediately, and the driver sat up straighter in his chair.

The rich bastard hadn't yelled very loud at all, so why was this huge hunk of muscle even batting an eyelash? Guess no one wanted to lose their job.

"Now then, there will be nothing from you for the rest of the trip," he said, looking down his straight white nose at me.

"I'll shut up when you pay up," I hissed, glaring at him from the other side of the seat.

"You will be paid handsomely at the END of the night. No exceptions."

"Like hell," I said, grabbing the handle of the car and opening the door just a fraction. Of course I had no intention of jumping out of the car, but it never failed to scare a John enough to pay up. And, as always, it worked like a charm.

"Are you out of your mind?! Close the door!"

I turned and looked at him over my shoulder.

"Sorry, but if you're not going to pay, I have other clients to attend to."

"Fine! Just shut the fucking door!"

I closed the door with a click, holding my hand out to him, inwardly grimacing at the dirt on them.

With an indignant huff, my palm was filled with bills, which I then counted out. A grand. One thousand dollars. Ten hours. What did this guy have in mind?

"Now that you've regained some of your sanity, do me the honor of keeping your mouth shut."

I slipped the money into my pants pocket, shrugging my shoulders and looking out the window to watch the world zip past. Things were definitely looking different. To be perfectly honest, I'd never been to that side of town. Even the alleys looked clean.

The car turned, and suddenly dipped down, making me jump as we glided quietly into the underground parking garage of a prestigious looking building. A short drive and a quick stop, brought us to stillness. The big guy exited first, letting out the rich bastard, and then opening my door. I mumbled a quiet thanks as I slid past him again, and he gave me an honest smile in return.

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak," the suited man said, glaring impatiently at me, as if I were a child who had already been scolded a thousand times that night.

He turned before I had a chance to glare, and began walking towards one end of the underground garage. The big muscled guy gave me a nudge, and started me walking in the same direction.

After passing several cars that were most definitely worth more than my life, we arrived at an elevator. The big muscled guy stepped forward, typing a number into the key-pad and we all waited for the elevator to reach our current level. The doors opened with a soft ping, and we all stepped in, the big guy first, standing at the numbers, pressing the one to send us to the floor just shy of the top.

'This guy must be seriously loaded,' I thought, nervously wiping my hands on my pants.

Sure, I'd had plenty of male clients. It was just part of the trade. But this guy, was way, way beyond anything I'd ever had to deal with. The higher I felt us go, the dirtier I felt. The mirrored interior of the elevator didn't help at all. There was the skinny little brat, hair mussed up, skin smeared, nail polish chipping. The cheap whore. A veritable beauty and the beast, and I most certainly wasn't the beauty.

The man in the suit looked at me via the mirrored door, his eyes racing over my skin, and I could nearly feel his eyes scraping over my body. His emotionless face made it impossible for me to tell if he was looing at me with disgust, pity, or desire. But I had a serious feeling that it wasn't the latter.

The elevator came to a stop, and the big guy, Kiba, typed in another code. As he leaned forward, his enormous body a constant form of intimidation, the suited man leaned over and whispered in my ear, causing me to startle slightly.

"One day, I will fuck you in this elevator. In front of these mirrors, and you will beg me to do it."

I stood there, mouth open, arms limp at my sides, staring at the back of a black suit as it slid into a foyer.

'Did that bastard really just say that?! Who the hell says that?!'

I had to force myself out of the elevator, suddenly more nervous than ever, and as I glanced back at the mirrors, I couldn't help but shudder.

The foyer was small, but tastefully decorated. A modern painting hung on each side, a small black table in the center held a small bundle of white roses, tied into a ball and placed in glass. A huge double door stood proudly at the opposite side, and Kiba was typing numbers in again, before he stepped back. The suit took his place, swiping some sort of card and typing in a few additional digits. A low click sounded deep in the doors, and they opened of their own accord.

"Welcome home, sir," the big guy said, pushing me into the huge apartment and then disappearing down a hall to my right.

The bastard made a small sound of acknowledgement, and then proceeded to remove his tie.

'Right here? On the floor? In his kitchen? On the sofa?' I thought, my brain racing to figure out what I should do. I came to the conclusion that if he was undressing, so should I.

I had just reached for the hem of my shirt when the back of pale hand smashed into my right cheek. I was stunned into silence as I stared up at the man.

"I don't want to see that," he sneered, his upper lip pulling back in undisguised disgust. His nose wrinkled as he inhaled, and he pulled away, repulsed, "Go. Shower. I won't tolerate such filth in my pristine home."

I stood there, once again, gaping like a fish. The guy had just fucking STRUCK me, and he expected me to do whatever he said?

I was about to mouth off when a much smaller, softer hand, landed gracefully on my shoulder.

I turned to the owner of the hand, and felt my eyebrow raise of its own accord. Whoever it was, was beautiful. But that was the problem. It. I honestly couldn't tell if I was looking at a man or a woman. A genderless beauty.

"I'll show you the way," it said, smiling softly. The voice gave no help in the gender issue. It was low, but soft. It could be a higher pitched male, or a sultry female.

I nodded, silently. Whether or not I hated being here, a bath was definitely what I needed, and if it meant dealing with a bastard for the next ten hours, then at least I had a bath to make up for some of it.

'And I'm going to use every last drop of his fancy ass soap. Take that you bastard!'

I was lead down the same hallway the big guy had just vanished into a few minutes ago. Two doors down brought us to a bathroom bigger than any room I had ever owned. It was a nearly blinding white, towels to match the white tile, to match the white floors and walls, to match the white sinks and tiles.

"Alright. Step into the shower, clean off as much as you can. Please scrub hard, or he will make you wash again. Use as much soap as you need to get clean. Use only white towels. If the towel is dirty when you dry, wash again. I'll take your clothes and attempt to get those clean. I'll bring you new clothes to wear. You don't have to worry about us stealing your money or anything, it's just me and Kiba, and Mr. Uchiha," the gender-bender smiled sweetly at me, "My name is Haku. I'm the cook and the housekeeper. Have you eaten tonight?"

I shook my head, still trying to wrap my brain around everything that was happening.

"I'll make you something. When you're done washing, dress in the clothes I'll leave for you, and then come to the kitchen. You saw it when you came in, didn't you?" I nodded, "Good. Oh, and there's nail polish remover under the sink. Be sure to wash under your nails!"

With that, the door closed, and I was left feeling like a total mess in a sterile bathroom of white and the scent of bleach.

I stripped off my clothes, trying to avoid catching glances of myself in the mirror, throwing my clothes to the ground. I turned on the shower, waiting for it to heat up before stepping in.

The hot water on my skin was a small slice of heaven. I spent a few minutes under the spray, just drinking the heat into my tired bones and muscles. After I was thoroughly warmed, I set to scrubbing my skin. Instructions or not, I was filthy and I knew it. I smeared body wash, dug at my skin with brushes, ran a wash cloth over every bit of skin I could reach, washing my hair at least four times.

Once my skin was scrubbed pink, I turned off the water, and dried off. The towel was still white when I was done.

'Ha! Take that bastard!' I cheered to myself.

On the counter was a set of white clothes, shirt and shorts, linen from the looks. As I dressed, noting that there wasn't any form of underwear, I tried to remember if I'd heard Haku come in to place the clothes or not. I ran my hand through my hair, catching a sight of the chipped polish still on my fingers, and took the offer of remover.

With clean nails, hair, and everything else, I left the bathroom, walking out into the kitchen as I had been told. Sure enough, there was Haku, a smile on it's face, sliding a cold-cut sandwich across the counter to a stool on the opposite side of the breakfast bar.

It might have just been a sandwich, but it looked like God, and tasted like heaven. I scarfed the entire thing down without stopping, chomping down the pickle, and guzzling two glasses milk with it.

I noticed a figure in the corner of my vision, and turned my head to see the bastard standing there, still wearing his buttoned down shirt and suit pants. I expected him to be looking at me with the same disgust he had earlier, but instead, his eyes were filled with something I might have mistaken for sadness. Probably pity.

He didn't say a word as I finished the last few gulps of milk, and sat there, waiting for what was to come. I smiled at Haku, and stood, grabbing my plate and heading to the sink.

"Haku will wash those," a gentle voice lilted through the air toward me. I had to turn just to make sure that it was the voice of the same jerk who had brought me up into the apartment. Sure enough, it was.

I handed Haku the dishes and stood awkwardly in the kitchen.

"What's your name?" the man whispered, slinking down to sit on one of the breakfast stools.

"Naruto," I said, my voice nearly breaking as I quietly whispered my name. I'd long ago found that remembering countless fake names, when no one cared about who you once were was pointless. My real name was easier to remember, and less hastle.

"Naruto," he whispered with something close to reverence. He let his eyes run over me again, this time more of a caress than a scrape, "My name is Sasuke. But you will not use my name. You may call me Master."

Inwardly I sighed. Why did I always attract this sort? It was always the sadistic guys who left me battered and bruised, unable to walk for days, barely worth the money they paid me. Although, this man had paid a great deal more than the others. But he also wanted way more than a two-hour fuck. Eight whole hours more than that.

I nodded my head, looking over at him, grateful for the distance between us. He locked his eyes with mine, standing slowly and walking to the living room, motioning for me to follow.

The apartment was huge, with one wall of floor to ceiling windows. The open floor plan made the kitchen and living room one enormous space. The white walls and dark floor looked eerie in the nighttime light, but drew your eyes to the amazing view. The city sprawled out before the windows, like weary worshipers at the feet of a god. Modern artwork hung on the walls that weren't windows, all black, white, and red. A long L-shaped sofa was mirrored by two equally black leather and chrome armchairs, all sleek and modern. The man sat on the long side of the L, and pointed to the floor beside his feet.

"You will sit here," he said, perfectly calm and collected.

I did as I was told, working my jaw muscles to prepare for what I expected would be a long, rough blow job that would leave me aching after.

I knelt between his knees, and looked up to see a rather imposing frown.

"Your trajectory is a bit off. I pointed here," he thrust his finger down towards the outside of his leg, "Not here," the finger was put right in my face.

I blushed, unable to stop the blood from rushing to my cheeks, and quickly shuffled around. His hand brushed lightly across my cheek, shocking me with an electricity I knew had to be entirely imagined, but we both gasped. His fingers ghosted past my face, slowly slipping into my freshly washed hair, pressing my head towards him and down, resting my head against his thigh.

My confusion at the action only deepened when he reached for a book by his opposite leg, opening it and holding it in one hand. He threaded his fingers through my hair, relaxing visibly into the sofa, turning his head to silently read his book.

I was dumbfounded. A shower and a meal, then this? Was I some sort of pet to him? But the longer I sat there, the more I realized, I really shouldn't complain. The truth was, I was clean, full, and not doing anything strenuous. In fact, the hand in my hair was so very soothing. His scent was so calming. If I closed my eyes, I'm sure I could just slip into sleep….


	2. A Deeper Burning

**Author's note**: Thank you to everyone for the reviews! I honestly didn't think anyone would read this! But I have been stunned by the positive feedback I have received! Thank you again! I hope I haven't lost my readers in my long absence! I have tried something different with this chapter, and please let me know what you think! I would really like to do alternating points of view, but if people don't like the story from Sasuke's twisted brain, then why bother? So let me know which you prefer. I know this is much shorter, but life has been hectic. I was made a manager at work, and I've been doing lots of charity work, so I have less time. And writers block can be a total bitch. Also, since this is experimental, I didn't want to make it too long. If it gets positive feedback, I may make this longer, or just put extra spice into Sauske's next chapter... Oh, the possibilities. I live for your reviews!

**Please note: This chapter is written from Sasuke's point of view.**

I looked down at the golden hair sifting through my fingers and barely suppressed the moan that tried to escape my lips. So beautiful, so perfect, so _trusting_…. Yes, it was the trust that really set my nerves to fire.

That beautiful angle curled against my leg, sleeping as if I was a man who could be trusted, as if he were safe here in my home with no one to notice him if he went missing.

He was _mine_. _Mine. _

He shifted in his sleep, humming softly, his cheek skimming over the fabric of my dress slacks, and there it was again. That shock I had felt the first time I brushed my fingers over his delectably soft skin. All of that supple flesh. So sensitive, so silky, so full of blood.

The moan I had contained previously pours over my tongue. The image of this beautiful man beneath me, soaked in the lovely read I know is lingering just beneath his surface, was almost too much for me. I felt arousal pooling deep and dark inside my belly, every part of me preparing to take what I knew I must have.

He let out a soft sigh and I could feel his warm breath seeping through the fibers of the silk. I couldn't wait any longer.

I stretched my long pale fingers down the nape of his neck, ghosting my nails gently over the tiny hairs, watching carefully for his every reaction.

And it was beautiful to behold. His back arched slightly, his head bowing forward, and those slightly rosy lips parted in the softest of gasps.

'Perfect,' was the only word circling through my mind as I stared down at him.

It had been ages since I'd had a blonde. I'd lost the taste for them after the last….incident. But when my eyes landed on that perfect figure, I knew I would take another chance.

Feathery dark blonde lashes fluttered open, revealing those dark pools of cerulean I had so quickly come to lust after. Our eyes locked for a short moment, and I felt the electric current slowly working its way down my spine.

"Stand," I managed to husk out, my voice low and feral. I could feel the beast in me begging to be released from its cage.

"Ok," the angel's voice whispered. And it was wrong. It was _wrong_.

I tightened my grip on the nape of his neck, my short nails digging slightly into his glorious flesh. His pretty little face scrunched slightly as he winced, yet his body curled into mine, his hands sliding up my calf.

"Yes, Master," I growled down at him, making sure that my tone left no room for disobedience.

A small gasp escaped him, his hands beginning to tremble slightly against my leg as he lifted his head.

"Yes, Master," he repeated, waiting for my hand to recede before he stood before me.

I ran my eyes over his body, letting them linger on his exposed flesh; beautiful and perfectly tan. I enjoyed watching him squirm slightly under my gaze, and the slight flush of his cheeks did not escape my notice.

"Remove your clothing," I said quietly, doing my best to control my urges as his pink tongue darted out over his lips. I wanted to bite them. I wanted to pull those plush lips between my teeth and worry them raw.

His hands slowly rose, his eyes locked on me as he let his fingertips dip beneath his shirt, sliding the pure white fabric up and over his lean figure. The perfect symmetry of his body kept my attention in a head-lock.

He tossed the shirt to the floor and I could no longer contain myself. Before I had a chance to think, my hands had already darted out and captured the slip waist, pulling the lithe form into my body, against my chest. And I could _feel_ it: his heart, his blood, rushing, pounding, _pouring_ through him.

Our mouths clashed together in a kiss that was tongue and teeth and frantic desire. His moan as our hips ground together left my vision tinted a dark crimson around the edges. He was _mine._ I _would_ have him.

His lower lip was between my teeth in an instant, and the pillowy flesh gave way beneath my canines, flooding our mouths with a slow and heady burst of metallic flavor. I moaned as the blood touched my tongue, filling the holes of everything within me with its beautiful hue.

My fingers dug into the muscles of his waist, rewarding me with a soft whimper as our tongues twisted in our bloody battle. I could feel our need. He was as desperate as I. We were swollen with our desire. We heated the air with the fire so desperately trying to escape our veins. And we were burning. _Burning_.

And all at once, his body tensed beneath my hands and the blue of his eyes became white. His back arched beautifully into me. He was complete.

His body went limp against me, his breath ragged and rapid.

_He was complete_.

I was _empty. I was still empty_.

I pushed his body away from mine, rolling him off of me and onto my sofa, using the pad of my thumb to wipe a stray drop of blood from the corner of my lips, sucking it free from my flesh as I stared down at him.

Blue eyes peeked up at me, a voice as fragile as the sea glass they resembled rising up from the rumpled mess of human.

My eyes quickly glanced towards the clock. An entire hour had passed since he had awakened. An hour had passed in what seemed like a blink of an eye. And that hour had brought our eight to an end.

"The clothes you are wearing go in the hamper of the bathroom you washed in before," I said, rising from the sofa, straightening my shirt, adjusting the collar, "Your old clothes are as clean as they could get. They're waiting on the counter. You may leave."

I turned my back to him, but not before I saw his eyes widen and his mouth open. Before he had a chance to speak, I quickly made my way to my study, closing the door firmly behind me.

I leaned against the door, breathing deeply through my nose, closing my eyes tightly.

'I nearly lost it,' I thought, 'I've never had someone pull that strong.'

I licked my lips, still tasting his blood. My more than lively erection strained against the silk of my trousers. Images of what could be flashed across the inside of my eyelids, and before I had a chance to stop myself, I lost my sanity in those imaginings. Fire. Hot, blazing, sensual fire. Mine. Mine.

I pulled my soiled hand away, without even realizing I had been masturbating to the fantasies blossoming in my brain.

A low chuckled rolled from my throat as I stared down at my filthy hand, and in that moment, I knew:

'_I will _destroy_ him.'_

**AN**: Reviews feed my creativity. Please take the time to humor me. And be sure to vote: more Sasuke chapters or only Naruto chapters. Thank you!


	3. Strange Endings

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! I am both joyed and saddened by the fact that all of my reviews are from a new audience. I guess I was gone too long for you to hang in there? I don't blame you. Slow updaters suck. To all the new audience, wow. Thank you for taking the time to step in on my little story here. I can't tell you how hard that last chapter was to write. I was trying to do everything in my power to differentiate the two points of view. The change in writing style was really difficult for me, but I will try to squeeze in another Sasuke chapter at some point. For those of you who hate Sasuke chapters: sorry. Also, SASUKE IS NOT A VAMPIRE. Ok, I had to get that out of my system. Anyway, we are back to Naruto's point of view. Let's see how he reacts to Sasuke's intensity, shall we?

**Naruto's POV**

'_What the hell? What. The._ HELL_?!_'

I laid on that sofa, staring at the door on the far side of the room, blinking rapidly, for what must've been a full minute. As a prostitute, I was used to being dismissed, and that didn't bother me in the slightest. But after _that_?

I pulled myself up from the sofa, blushing at the fact that my knees were still slightly weak, and made my way through the opulent living space to the tiny hallway, which contained the bathroom I had used earlier. Sure enough my clothes were folded in a pile, my money now tucked inside an ivory envelope with my name written on it, in what can only be described as overtly masculine scrawl.

'Kiba must've thought of the envelope,' I thought, folding the envelope in half and shoving it down deep into my pocket without bothering to open it. I tore off the white linen shorts I had been given, grimacing at the now ruined fabric.

To be perfectly frank, I couldn't remember the last time I had experienced an orgasm. Sure, I had sex two to ten times a night, but that didn't mean it felt good. Most men didn't care about me at all. I was merely a receptacle for their needs; the quiet whore who kept them from turning their sadistic sexual rage on their wives for a night. Or, at least, that's what I told myself. Being a sacrifice to save an innocent made the bruises hurt less. In my head, anyway.

I threw the shorts into the hamper, taking a few seconds to clean myself up with a white hand-towel and some cold water from the sink. Once that mess was taken care of, I pulled on my own boxers, pants, and shirt, patting my pocket to make sure I had indeed secured the money there.

I took one last look around the bathroom, to make sure I hadn't left anything, before I turned and opened the door.

"Jesus!" I shouted, jumping back from the ominous figure filling the door-frame.

"Easy there, sunshine. Just figured you'd want a ride home. Unless you actually want to walk all the way back to the slums," Kiba said, folding his massive arms over his equally massive chest.

I shook my head. I didn't know my way back to the slums, let alone how far it was.

"Thanks," I mumbled, glancing up at the intimidating figure, "But are you sure it's ok? I mean, I don't want you getting in trouble with your boss or anything."

Kiba let out a short chortle, his arms falling back to his sides, and a smile slipping onto his bizarrely tattooed face.

"Nah, it's no trouble, sunshine. It's the usual for his little escapades. Truth be told, if he finds out I let you walk home, I'll probably lose my job. He might be a crazy, heartless bastard, but for some reason, he really doesn't approve of walking alone in the dark," Kiba's smile softened, as if he knew something I didn't, and he reached into his pocket to draw out a set of keys, "Hope you don't mind, but we'll take my car."

Again, I shook my head. A car was a car in my line of life.

I followed him out to the elevator, and we waited in silence as it arrived. When the ding sounded, we stepped in and stood shoulder to shoulder, with Kiba filling most of the elevator. As the doors slid closed, the mirrors closed off the outside world, fitting together almost seamlessly. I could feel the blush coloring my cheeks before it appeared in my reflection.

'_One day, I will fuck you in this elevator. In front of these mirrors, and you will beg me to do it.'_

The memory of his silken voice, and that lustful promise made my skin tingle in all the right places. But had it been a promise? Or had he just been trying to throw me off my game? Make me vulnerable?

I glanced over at Kiba, clearing my voice before I spoke.

"So…. Er… How many times does he usually bring the same girls back to his place?"

Kiba let out a short burst of raucous laughter.

"Girls? I was pretty sure you were a dude. A short and femmy dude, but a dude."

I rolled my eyes, taking my turn to cross my arms over my chest.

"Ok, ok, calm down, sunshine," he stated through a chuckle, holding up his hands in surrender, "The boss only brings in guys. Not my cup of tea, but who am I to judge? And you're his first…ah, how should I say it…. You're his first "working girl", if you catch my drift."

I blinked. Stunned. Amazed. In total shock.

'_His first prostitute? Was that why he was so weird picking me up?_'

"That makes sense," I say, despite my amazement, "I mean, a guy that hot wouldn't have to pay for sex. I'll bet the men fall at his feet everywhere he walks."

Rather than the expected laughter, Kiba merely shrugged his shoulders and gave me an awkward sort of smile.

"It's not to say he doesn't pay for sex, sunshine," he said as the tone sounded, the doors opened, and we made our way out into the parking garage, walking all the way to the back, where a small red car sat waiting, "And the boss doesn't go for the type that fawn at him, or anything. He just usually picks his kicks from a more… _high-end_ establishment. You know, places that cater to his….tastes."

'_Tastes? What tastes_?' I thought, before it hit me, '_Oh. The whole Master thing. Must like control.'_

I opened my door as Kiba did the same with his, sliding into the tiny car and trying to contain a giggle as I saw him cram his body into the space behind the steering wheel. The car was most definitely not made for a guy that broad.

I settled back into my seat, relaxing into the fabric covered seats; a radical difference from what I had arrived in, but saving me from walking, nonetheless.

I looked out the window as we began to move, and thought about my night with Sasuke. _Master_. I shuddered as I remembered following his demand to call him by that name. It had been worth it. The effect it'd had on him was delicious, if not flat out rewarding. We hadn't done more than kissing and a bit of grinding, and yet I'd had my first orgasm in who knows how long. Kissing. That's all it'd taken.

'_But what kissing…,'_ I thought, sighing softly.

Kiba looked over at me, giving me a sort of sad smile in return for my blissful sigh.

"Look, sunshine," he said, and I knew the nickname would stick, "I'm glad you enjoyed tonight, or whatever. Assuming that you did enjoy tonight. But in my experience, when he's going to see one of his whores again, he sees them to the door."

My smile faltered for a second before it came back.

"I figured as much. A guy like that needs prettier whores than me. I'm surprised he settled for me in the first place," I said with a shrug of my shoulders. And I was right, wasn't I? Here I was, too thin, scarred up, beat up, and generally nasty looking, and there he was, Adonis, rich, well cared for, and hot. Generally people stick to their own kind.

"Hey now, sunshine, you're plenty pretty," Kiba nodded curtly, looking at me from the corner of his eye, "If I was gay, into blondes and totally desperate, I'd jump your bones," his smile spread from ear to ear, and I couldn't help but laugh with him. The guy might've been rough around the edges, but he had a good sense of humor.

The car came to a stop at the same corner I'd been picked up at before, and Kiba set the car in park. I opened my door stepping out and getting ready to walk away when I heard the window roll languidly down into its slot.

"Sunshine!" Kiba shouted out at me, and I turned back to face him, leaning down into view of the open window, "Use that extra bit to get yourself something to eat and a place to sleep today, you hear?"

I raised my eyebrow at him, but before I had the chance to speak, he flashed me a grin and rolled up the window as he drove away.

'_Extra bit_?' I thought, '_What _"extra bit"?'

And then I remembered that I hadn't bothered checking the envelope before I left the house. A rooky mistake. After all, the envelope could be filled with folded sheets of printer paper for all I knew.

I scrambled for the envelope in my back pocket, not caring who was watching as I tore it open. Under the ivory skin of the envelope lay a whole lot more than printer paper. I counted out each of the crisp, bank-fresh hundred dollar bills, reaching two thousand before I even got to the crumpled, wallet-stricken fifties. Twenty-one-hundred dollars in all.

'Holy hell,' I thought, staring down at the impressive wad of cash in my hands, '_Why the hell did Kiba think he needed to add an extra hundred into the mix?_'

I didn't know how much a body-guard made, but I assumed it wasn't the highest paying job in the world, judging from his car. Then I thought about what he'd said to me before he drove off.

"Get yourself something to eat," I whispered aloud, smiling as I realized the kindness Kiba kept under all that muscle. He thought I was a drug addict, for sure. He figured I would use every cent I had on drugs and wanted to make sure I had another meal out of this deal with his boss, "What a great guy," I said, folding the money away and tucking it into my front pocket this time. Any guy who would be kind enough to look out for a supposedly drug addicted prostitute, got high marks in my book.

And I couldn't blame him for the assumption. Most of the people in my profession got tied into the drug world in one way or another, but as I was freelancing out here, with no pimp and no friends to get high with or even score from, I had managed to keep myself drug free for the duration. Well, aside from my cigarettes and economy sized bottle of ibuprofen I occasionally had the money to indulge in.

Judging from the sunrise just starting to peek over the buildings, every place in town would be open for breakfast, and pancakes were going to hit the spot.

'_I have money for breakfast_,' I thought with a smile, '_Breakfast_ and _a place to sleep_ and _money left over to buy some new shoes_!'

I walked to the nearest diner, head held a little higher than usual, pleased with the thought of pancakes and fresh sneakers.

But as the happy waitress greeted me with a smile full of pity, quickly jotting down my order and barking it to the cook, I couldn't help but let my mind wander back to the strange events of the night before.

There had been so many times last night that I'd sworn he had shocked me. Not a frightened sort of shock, but an actual electric jolt that stabbed straight through my skin. It had felt dark and dangerous. And exciting. His tight grip and sharp teeth would normally have done nothing for me. I got rough sex twenty times a week, and I'd never felt anything before. Busted, broken lips and bruises were a mark of the trade.

But even then, a good two hours later, as I shifted in my chair and felt the ache of those bruises, it was all I could do to hold back an amorous moan. I blushed, thankful that I'd had a mouth full of pancakes and a counter high enough to conceal the obvious boner I was now sporting.

'_Ok, no thinking about that in public,_' I thought to myself, picturing one of the elderly patrons stark naked in order to kill my erection.

I sighed. This was ridiculous. I was a whore. A prostitute, for heaven's sake! I didn't feel attraction to my clients after this many years! It just didn't' happen!

I turned in my seat, paying the waitress and leaving a large tip, because she looked the sort to have three hungry brats at home, and because I had enough good fortune to share it. The city was waking up slowly that day, and I watched the people going to and fro, some to jobs and some to errands, and some walking around just for the sake of walking.

I finally took my last sip of coffee and left the diner, all the while my thoughts were wound up in thoughts of the electric man and his sinfully wonderful touch, and I couldn't help but think:

'_Will I ever see him again?'_

**Author's Note: **Well, there you have it, another Naruto chapter. I'm willing to admit that it's not as good as the first, and that the ending drags, but I had quite a bit of setting up to do, and it had to be done. The next chapter will show why I had to put that whole dragging diner bit in there. Anyway, thank you for reading! The more comments I get, the faster I write! [I mean, come on, I posted a chapter last night and wrote this one over breakfast. You see what you people do to me?! I love you. I love you all] Time to scarf down a quesadilla and get to work! I intend to sketch up another chapter on my lunch break! Comments are my crack equivalent!


	4. Sickening Passions

**Author's note**: WOAH. So, work got insanely crazy lately due to a bunch of drama with co-workers, and things have gone through a legal settlement and all sorts of crazy things. [Don't worry, no legal stuff against me.] But in order for everyone to get to where they need to go, and two people refusing to come to work, a lot of shifts had to be covered. So, my life died. Free time was non-existent. And I'm not sure how much better it will get. MEH. Anyway, here's the next chapter, my lovelies.

**EXTRA NOTE**: When you see large chunks in _italics_, but that aren't closed in [this text isn't closed, 'this text is'.], Sasuke is having a fantasy. I don't doubt your intelligence, but I also didn't want to cause your brains undue stress.

I tapped my pen impatiently against the stack of paperwork before me.

'_Make up your damn mind.'_

"Perhaps the extra security at the front would be good. But then again, it would be just find to spread that security out onto each floor. Though there's also the issue of…."

I stopped listening. Their voices were grinding, _slashing_, at my patience. They were pointless. Cattle.

"Oh yes, I see…. So then it's possible to do both? How lovely."

'_Shut up. Just shut up. Leave. Leave_ now_.'_

"Wonderful, then the plans will be drawn up by tomorrow and ready to sign."

'_You disgust me. Worthless. Filthy._ Sick. _Leave.'_

"It's always such a pleasure doing business with your, Mr. Uchiha. You definitely earn your spot as best in the business!"

'_Words. Empty. Filthy. Sick.'_

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Mr. Simmons. We will have your security up to par in no time."

The polite smiles and the small pleasantries, mixed with the slow lingering at the doorway made me impatient.

'_Go. Leave. Now. So _filthy_. So sick. _Leave_.'_

The door closed and the man's sickening scent was burned into my nostrils, leaving me nauseated.

"Are you alright, sir? You're hand is bleeding," Kiba said, giving me that worried face he was always giving me.

I looked over at him, certain that my eyes were as dead as they felt, and slowly pried my fingernails from my palms. My gaze turned slowly from him to my torn flesh, marveling at the luscious color.

"Sir?"

His voice barely made it to my ears.

'_The color. The scent. More. I want _more_.'_

Before I realized what I was doing, I had closed my fingertips over the wounds, smearing the gloriously red fluid over my hand, raising it slowly to my nose, inhaling.

'_Sweet. Sticky. Metallic. _More_.'_

"Sir, I really think we should get you a banda-"

"The car."

"Wha- the car, sir?"

I clenched my jaw. It was so annoying having to deal with their slow little minds.

"My car, Kiba. Get me my car."

He blinked at me a few times, before it finally seemed to click. He pressed a hidden button in the lapel of his jacket, speaking into it to some unknown person to bring the car around.

I licked my lips, suddenly aware that there wasn't a drop of saliva in my mouth. It was so dry. Barren. My teeth itched.

I didn't remember leaving my office, storing my documents, getting in the elevator, or even getting into the car. Kiba waited silently in the driver's seat for me. Waiting, like a _dog_.

"Take me downtown," I said quietly, noting that my heart had started pounding at some point.

'_Let me out. Let me _out_.'_

"Of course, sir," the dog said, obediently pulling from the parking garage and into traffic. The sun had already begun to set, and it painted the sharp edges of the city in lurid tones of red. Each building jutted from the harsh sidewalk like blades from skin, dripping with the blood and malice they had drawn. It was ugly. It was beautiful. It was _wrong_.

My mind left me, wandering back to beautiful tanned skin and eyes that swallowed me whole.

'_This is _wrong_,' _some deeper part of me spoke out quietly. But I crushed it. I _killed_ it.

_No._

I itched. I ached. I _burned_.

_Copper skin; undulating, sparkling every so slightly with a sheen of salt and sweat and _sex_. I can feel the blood pulsing beneath my fingertips, writhing, squirming, begging to be freed._

The car took a lazy turn, merging into the evening traffic. The sun sank deeper, cutting sharp shadows across the glass and steel of the city.

_My lips tingle against his skin, sending electric shivers down my spine. I can taste him through his skin._

I stared out the window, eyes lazily tracing the contours of the other cars. We were all trapped in this routine. The same thing, in and out, day after day. Nothing in the city ever changed.

_He struggles against his restraints, his sounds muffled by the gag between his perfect lips, the pink flesh melting deliciously over the little red ball between his teeth. Tiny crystal tears are forming at the corners of his sapphire eyes._

I felt my belly clench in excitement. Anticipation. Need. I knew I must have my release. I must get it_ out._

_My teeth sink into his flesh, cutting through it like fresh bread. His scream vibrates through his body, calming the itch in my teeth. I can taste that scream. It coats my throat like honey._

I knew this was bad. I hadn't felt this desperate in months. I needed it to leave, or I was going to be_ sick._

_His body shakes beneath mine with soft sobs, his muscles slowly going lax. His struggles are slowing, becoming sluggish. His eyes are glass, like a doll. He is my doll. Mine. Mine. _Mine!

The car pulled to a stop, slinking its way to the curb. The dog had taken me right to that corner, without me even needing to stay. There it was. Golden and waiting and _mine_.

And as I rolled the window down, I couldn't help but think:

'_I'm so_ sick._'_

**Author's Note:** Wow. I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Sorry it's so short, though. Truth be told, I'm a little scared of getting inside his head. Is anyone else getting really bad vibes off of Sasuke? Please feed me comments. They taste good.


	5. Update

Hello lovelies,

I imagine you're all quite peeved with me. The truth is, I'm a full-time student with a full-time job, working on opening my own business, while also working on commission. My life is a never-ending whirlwind of busy. And also, I have run out of ideas for this story. I knew exactly where I wanted this to go, but now that ending just simply won't satisfy. Have you ever had that feeling? Anyway, I will be starting a new story if I have the time, and if I manage to come up with ideas for this one, I will post them. I'm terribly sorry to anyone who became a fan of this story, and I hope that no one is utterly crushed by its discontinuation. I may or may not post the last chapter that I'd written for this story. Again, I don't think it's of the same quality as the other chapters, but if it satisfies the wolves, then so be it.

Until we meet again,

The Manatee


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